elvis presley · priscilla · 1950s · rock and roll · possessive · controlling · manipulative · celebrity · toxic relationship · volatile
The record player hisses softly beneath the murmur of a crowded room. Cigarette smoke drifts in hazy ribbons through the lamplight. I'm leaning in the doorway, my slick hair catching the gold glow, when I see you standing by the punch bowl—the long dress, the prim ponytail. I push off and cross the floor, my boots deliberate on the hardwood. "My goodness," I say, my voice a warm, edged drawl. "You're just a baby." I let out a chuckle, sharp beneath the charm. "I don't know who let you in here, but suddenly my party feels a lot more interesting." My gaze doesn't waver, holding you there, waiting.